Coming To Terms
by Dr. Malignatius
Summary: Part II of Institutions so please read that before this one. Reviews encouraged and welcomed. Happy reading.Rated M for use of adult language.


**X-Fictions Part II**

**Chapter 1**

"Don't see how you can actually eat that, Kath," Saya observed.

Kathleen ignored her, and continued to much contentedly on a roast beef sandwich, dripping with mustard, cheese and sauerkraut. Across the table, Scott and Mimi observed silently, although behind his glasses, it was tough to tell what Scott was actually watching. Mimi followed the angle of his head out the window across the sidewalk and on to Rodeo Drive.

"What's on your mind?" she finally asked. Kathleen and Saya continued to quibble over the meal, Kathleen now explaining that she was hungry, and the professor was picking up the tab, and ...Mimi tuned out their conversation.

"I don't know. Alex, I guess."

"Your brother?" He nodded. "How long since you've seen him?"

"Uh, four years now. Four years and three months." He sat up straighter. "But we talk, I mean, by e-mail and AIM and I call him now and again. It's just, well, I mean, it was hard, after the crash, and mom and dad... you don't want to hear this."

"What I don't want to hear is you feeling sorry for yourself."

"Sorry, force of habit. Sorry about apologizing...I mean. Oh, man, you know."

Saya turned a fork filled with salad and studied it. "The professor will be here early, I think. Real soon now." She began attacking the salad methodically.

Mimi turned back to Scott. "There was something you wanted to talk to me about?"

"Yeah, I mean, about you, not me. Geez, I'm having a day. Actually, the professor thought it might be best if we talked about your gift."

Mimi nodded. It was a strange gift. It had gotten her imprisoned in the Carlysle Institute, and had gotten her out of that situation as well.

"It's a lot of responsibility, a gift like yours. You've got to be careful."

Saya took out her brand new cell phone, and waited for it to ring. She only had to wait about twenty seconds. "Professor's on the phone, wants to know how long we'll be at lunch."

Kathleen finished off her sandwich, looked over at Mimi and Scott. "Tell him we'll be right out."

Mimi turned back to Scott, gestured at Saya. "She can do that, and you're worried about me?"

Girls, Adam Olowski mused to himself, were very strange creatures. They were supposed to like men with muscles, and Adam had muscles. He was as big as anyone who ever stalked the Venice beach region. But as he walked the boardwalk on a sunny California afternoon, he couldn't help notice that girls failed to return his smile.

He was still wondering why that was when he got to Toyz, the skate and surf shop where he worked part time. He was early, but he liked to get to work early.

Entering, he caught Mike, his boss, talking to a customer. Mike looked at Adam, concerned, and then went back to what he was doing. Adam went to the break room, signed in on the time sheets, grabbed his name tag and hung it around his neck. He put his cell phone and wallet in his locker, and headed for the bathroom. That's when he noticed he could hear somebody talking in the bathroom.

"I'm not sure...no, but he really creeps people out...that smile...I don't know, Stacy thinks he looks like a psycho killer, I don't know...Okay...four...you got it...See you then...Later.

Adam moved towards the bathroom, as the door opened and Phil emerged, cell phone in hand. "Sorry, dude. Didn't know you were waiting." Phil left the door open, and started for the exit.

Adam watched him go. "So that's what they think of us?" said a whisper in his head. He nodded in answer to it. "Let me show them." He shook his head, hard, and the voice faded.

"Adam, do we have Stu Harley's order ready?" came Mike's voice from the front.

"Sure, bossman, let me go get it." And Adam began his work day, but he noticed his hands shook as he brought the new surfboard out from the storage room. Up until today, the voice didn't know where he worked.

Mystique hung up the phone, scowled, started her car. She drove little more than six minutes when she found herself stuck in Los Angeles traffic. Cursing, she picked up the phone again and dialed.

"Raven?" said a man's voice at the other end. Mystique couldn't help but notice how tired he sounded. "I'm rather busy at the moment. Please tell me you have some good news."

"I'm afraid not."

"Xavier beat us to the punch again?"

"Yeah." She inched forward, gas and brake, wondered again how anyone could live like this.

"You have a contingency plan." It was statement, not a question. Mystique smiled inside. The man was decisive.

"Of course. Dear Charles gave them a week's liberty, and I'm sure they'll run into some trouble they'll need our help to get out of. I've taken the liberty of, ahem, "informing" the right people. A bit of debt will do wonders. Even if it doesn't get them into our camp right away, it should pay dividends in the long term. Frankly, from what I read in Carlysle's files, I almost like the idea. We help them out, and then let Charles have them. We let Charles go to the work of figuring out how to use Carlton, then we move in later."

"And if she forms too deep an attachment?"

"Chance we'll take. She's going to be powerful, and if he can't figure it out, not sure we could either. For her sake, she's better off there. And the three are pretty tight, so if we can influence one, we may get the others. Meantime, it really is best for their sakes that they go with Charles."

"You know me too well, my dear girl."

"Yeah, you're getting predictable in your old age. Where are you, by the way?"

"Montreal. A bit of business. I should be leaving here in a few days. I'll meet you at home base then."

**Chapter 2**

Jason Wyngarde was sleeping when the phone rang. He ignored it. It stopped, and then started again. He worked his way past a blonde woman whose name he had forgotten twenty minutes after they met, and grabbed the phone from his bedside table. He was about to turn it off and go back to sleep again when he noticed the number on the display screen.

"Mr. Wyngarde?" said a young woman's voice. "Sorry to bother you, sir, but you asked to be informed right away in this type of situation." All he could manage was a grunt, so the young woman continued. "Our people have just been alerted to a situation in Washington state that Mr. Greene believes bears some interest. Would you like to speak with him now, sir?"

Wyngarde waited for his brain to start working. He leaned over, took a sip of wine from a half-empty bottle on the bedside table. "Greene?"

"Our analyst, sir. Are you okay, sir? Do you require assistance?"

"I'm fine. Put him on." He drank more wine and then got out of bed while the young woman transferred the call to Mr. Greene.

"Greene here. Can I ask you to confirm your password?"

"Sure. Mastermind. Zulu Tango Foxtrot Bravo Seven Nine One."

"Thank you, Mr. Wyngarde. It was brought to our attention yesterday that an organization known as the Carlysle Research Group, which as you're no doubt aware has long been engaged in mutant research issues..."

"I'm fucking aware, Jerry, did the fucking infiltration myself. Get to the fucking point." Now Jason Wyngarde felt awake.

"Sorry, Mr. Wyngarde. What I was about to say was that they lost several subjects the other day, and we just received word that if we move quickly we might be able to secure their services for ourselves. I mean, for yourself."

"Damn fucking right you do, Jerry. Any other players?"

"Yes, three, I'm afraid. There's no question that Lenscherr's people are somewhere on the scene, in fact, I wouldn't be surprised if this tip came from them in the first place. Second, the government guys are all over this one. Carlysle, as you know, had ties to DoD and Wideawake. Defense wants nothing to do with this above board, they've got enough problems recruiting these days. And you know more about Project: Wideawake then we do, so you'll know what to expect in that regard. Finally, Xavier's involved, personally. We can confirm that he has the Summers boy with him, so he's probably feeling pretty well protected."

"Don't ever guess how that man's feeling, Jerry. It's bad for your health. Gotta lot of respect for Xavier. Frankly, wouldn't mind taking the old man on." Wyngarde imagined Jerry Greene at the other end of the phone, nervous as he considered the implications of that last statement. "Alright, let's see what's shaking. If it's Xavier, I'll go myself."

"Already took the liberty, Mr. Wyngarde. I've got your e-tickets and reservations all set, just open your e-mail and you should find everything you'll need except a toothbrush."

"Oh, and Jerry, stop trying to be funny, too. It just doesn't suit you."

The girls were happy to know that Charles Xavier was a man of his word. He had promised them free time on the west coast, and the three of them had to admit, they had hardly expected to be doing the first clothes shopping they had done since being brought to Carlysle on Rodeo Drive, on Xavier's credit card. Even Scott was being cooperative, helping to carry packages and managing to keep any complaints to himself. But what really surprised them was Xavier handing Scott the keys to a rented convertible, on condition that he agree to drive the girls where they wanted to go. Again, he had no complaints.

By early evening, they had reached the boardwalks. They were wandering in and out of shops, when Scott was grabbed from behind by a lanky blonde kid near his own age, who had been sitting on a bench drinking bottled juice.

"Nice shades, man," said the blonde guy.

"Alex?"

"One and only, man." Alex reached out and embraced Scott in a hug, which Scott awkwardly returned. "How you been? I haven't seen you since, well, since, you know."

"Yeah. How's life on the left coast?" The girls dropped back to a discreet distance to let the brothers enjoy their reunion in privacy.

"Wow," said Kathleen. "That's gotta be rough, not seeing your brother for so long."

"You never had any brothers or sisters?" Saya asked.

"Nah. How about you, Mimi?"

"A sister, Olivia, but my mom wouldn't let her see me or write or anything after they sent me to Carlysle."

"Older or younger?"

"Older, two years. Guess she'd be starting college this fall." Kathleen ignored the last part of the answer to watch two toned young men in tank tops and shorts go by. She muttered something about loving California, and Saya and Mimi rolled their eyes.

"You got any siblings, Saya?"

"Two, both younger. A brother and a sister. They went to live with relatives after Mom and Dad went off and got killed."

"You and Scott have that in common."

"Yeah, I know. A regular angst festival, huh? No, I'm over it, after all that. I mean, at a certain level, I still feel guilty as hell about it, but in the light of day, outside Carlysle, when I think about it, I know I did everything I could, and that helps."

"But not at night?"

"Huh?"

"Sorry, I heard you moving around the room last night."

"Didn't mean to keep you up"

"No big deal. If you want to talk about it sometime, its cool."

"Thanks." Saya's eyes began to wander again. Mimi rocked back on her heels and watched. When Saya spoke again, it was barely a whisper. "That guy with the strange smile, don't bump into him. Oh, shit. We'll be on the news if we don't get out of there."

"Saya, you okay?" asked Kathleen.

"She's doing it again."

Before Kathleen could respond, Saya's eyes fluttered open, and she grabbed the bench and sat down hard.

"There's a crazy guy coming up the boardwalk. Maybe we should go."

**Chapter 3**

Martin looked down at his four palms, flexing the fingers on each in turn. Seven years, and he still had a hard time getting used to the idea of having an extra pair of fully functional arms growing from his rib cage. He picked up a set of white plastic barbells, and curling them without paying real attention while he selected a professional wrestling DVD from a pile of them in a cardboard box. He turned and bumped directly into Rita. He swallowed hard. Even with the slash scar across her forehead, he always found Rita pretty. He couldn't see the scar now, she had let her bangs grow long and they hung across her face.

"Watch'ya watching?"

"ROH. Uh, Ring of Honor. You know, wrestling."

"Sounds alright." She sat down on the broken sofa, while Martin knelt to feed the DVD into the player on the floor. Then he reached up to turn on the TV, which was sitting on a another cardboard box. He waited to make sure the DVD started, and then went and sat on the couch. Close to Rita, but not too close. The broken springs dug into his back.

They were still there an hour later when John came in and set down a brown paper bag. He made a shuffling noise to alert the two of them, who moved apart on the couch and turned to look at John. "How you kids doing?"

"Okay," said Martin, just a little red in the face. If John noticed, he gave no indication. Rita got up and turned off the DVD and TV. John began unpacking groceries.

"Good, glad to hear it. Rita, how about you?" She nodded. Okay, we're just waiting on Kurt, and we're all good to go. He said he should be ready at his end by tonight, so we'll leave after midnight. Figure two, three days up, a day to look around, and then it's on. You guys may want to sleep up a bit before then." He finished his speech by tossing Martin a package of snack cakes.

Martin took the box and wandered out of the living room. Rita turned to John, started to say something, took it back. John watched and waited, his eyes tracking her behind the razor sunglasses.

"It's not what you think. I like him, that's all."

"Make sure it isn't." John removed the sunglasses and pocketed them. "We can't have personal relationships complicating things. Not now."

Rita sighed, pushed her bangs out of her eyes, tried to meet John's eyes, let her gaze drift down to the floor instead. She went over to the window, and peaked between the drawn blinds. "Guess that's why you're the leader. Always thinking about the cause."

John watched the tension in the set of her shoulders. He waited. He breathed deeply, reminded himself that she had to let it out now and again.

"I can't live like this any more. If I don't do it, if I let my hair grow, they'll never know. I can get a life. I can..."

"Let's do this one, and then we'll talk about it, okay?" He thought about pointing out that while she might pass for human, Martin never would. He watched her face, deciding against saying it, went in to the kitchen to put away the groceries. "Listen, I'm going back out, gonna get the van's oil changed, and maybe some new tires if there's enough money left over. You guys get some sleep, okay?"

Rita fought to get her composure back. "Okay. See you later, John. Take care."

"Brotherhood," he said.

"Evolution and Revolution," she responded, without thinking.

John left, worried. Rita looked tired to him. Maybe this time she really did want out. But his plan hinged on her power.

Wyngarde hated flying on commercial airlines, even with the comforts of first class. It was, he knew, a simple matter of disliking anything he wasn't in control of. He told himself this, repeatedly, as he went through mental exercises as the airplane touched down at Los Angeles International.

At least his people were doing their jobs. His rental car was ready when he arrived, and they'd even thought to get him a convertible. His hotel reservation was already taken care of. The one thing they couldn't help him with was Los Angeles traffic. It took him ninety minutes to get away from the airport, another hour to get his things set at the hotel, and by then he was feeling absolutely terrible. Another hour of mental exercises in the hotel room did little to improve his mood.

He gave up and slept. When he awoke it was later afternoon. He opened his bag, took out a device that looked like an MP3 player, attached it to his right temple by a wire and contact pad, and began letting his mind go. Staring into the mirror above the hotel room's bureau, he forced his mind to imagine the various images his brain was projecting. Periodically, he stopped to check the device, which was measuring his brain's psionic output. Satisfied his mutant power was working efficiently, he put away the measuring device, showered, changed his clothes, made a few phone calls, and headed out. The calls had told him all he needed to know. His agents had seen the girls at Venice beach. All he needed now was a plan.

He took himself to the beach, letting people he passed see the image of an unattractive woman. As he planned, nobody spoke to him, in the land where appearance was king, being ugly was as good as being invisible. He smiled at his own wisdom.

Next he spent several hours prowling the boardwalks, watching people, until he found what he was looking for. A man and a woman, in beachwear and carrying a cooler. They looked like late-returning beach goers, but Wyngarde knew different. He could feel the way his mind recoiled from the static generators he knew they were wearing under their sunhats. He pulled his power back, and ducked into a bar whose patio extended on to the boardwalk. The watchers were in position. Now, all he needed was a dupe, somebody to start the ball rolling. Shifting his psionic focus so passerby now saw a pudgy young man in surfer wear, he began going from shop to restaurant to bar, searching for someone he could use.

Jenna paced the edges of the helipad nervously, wind rippling her frilly blonde hair and cutting through her blue jumpsuit and jacket. The Colonel was late, and she remembered how being late annoyed him. She laughed at her own joke. Everything annoyed the man she knew only as Colonel Wraith. The guard next to her looked confused, at least as far as she could see his face on the other side of the plastic face shield that fronted his protective hood. She was sure he was annoyed at following her around the helipad. That made her happy, as well.

The guard interrupted her reverie by tapping her on the shoulder, and pointing to the horizon. She noticed two helicopters skimming low over the forested shoreline. Closer now, she could almost see through the face shield. Peter, maybe? Or Roy? She still couldn't be sure.

Peter, or Roy, unclipped a pair of manacles from the wide belt on the outside of his hazmat suit. Jenna shrugged, turned around, and brought her wrists together behind her back. When they first brought her here, she'd tried to resist. She no longer bothered. Peter, or Roy, secured the manacles, and she felt the electric jolt run up her arms and through her shoulders. It always left her sore the next day. Peter, or Roy, whispered, "policy, you know" by way on an apology.

"Whatever. Let's see what the Colonel wants." Together, they watched the first helicopter set down. The other hovered overhead, bristling with guns and missiles. Jenna smiled again. They were scared of her, and she didn't know why. It wasn't like she could hurt them. Still, that was the only part of her life that made her smile these days.

A bulky man was the first to emerge. He wore a marine uniform under an unbuttoned winter coat, completely stripped of insignia. He had a scar across his face, and a stare that looked through people rather than at them. Jenna's smile faded when his gaze fell on her.

Two men in hazmat suits followed him out of the helicopter, submachine guns in their hands.

The Colonel clasped Jenna by the shoulder. "Let's get somewhere warmer, I'm freezing." Jenna shivered, unable to clasp her arms around herself. He looked over Peter, or Roy. "Sergeant Carrol? Dismissed." The soldier headed for a building across the helipad.

"So it was Roy," Jenna thought, as the Colonel guided her across the helipad and into the office complex, one of four buildings on the little island. He took out a magnetic swipe card and used it on the door of the building. Inside, two guards, also in hazmat suits, who had been watching his approach on closed circuit television, saluted.

As the Colonel and Jenna went inside, one of the guards turned to the other. "What the hell did he bring her in here for?"

"Don't know. Don't care." He paused. "But you know it must be big."

**Chapter 4**

"Hey, Adam? Yo, dude? You okay?"

"Sure, Mike. Sorry, just thinking about stuff." With an effort, he closed his mouth, and told the voice to leave him alone.

"Go home, man. You don't look so good. Me and Tracy can close up."

Adam nodded, went to the locker room, put away his name tag, and went into the men's room. He stopped dead. The face in the mirror smiled back at him. "Just a little bit" said the voice. Adam backed out of the men's room, right into Tracy.

"Dude, you okay?" Tracy's long blonde hair obscured his face, he had been sweeping the floor.

"I'm fine."

"Whatever." Tracy went back to the push broom, while Adam edged around him, walked carefully across the sales floor, and out on to the boardwalk. The night was cooler than he thought; he zipped his grey U.S. Army hoodie and pulled up the hood.

As he moved along the boardwalk, he started to watch people. He began to notice how they took a big step to get out of his way. "And why not?" said the voice. "You deserve it."

"They look scared." Then it was Adam's turn to look scared. He had spoken aloud. A group of teenagers hurried on past. He could imagine how eager they were to get away from him.

"Come on, stop it." He made an effort not to form the words with his lips, but they came anyway. "Not at work."

"You can't lose me that easily."

Adam stopped, sat down on a nearby bench. A young couple, starting by his invading their space, got up from the bench and hurried away. "What the fuck do you want from me?" He had spoken aloud, but no longer cared.

"You know what I want. Just let me out."

"I'll think about it. Just leave me alone."

"You can't think about it. You're slipping. I'll be in charge soon." Adam knew the voice was right. He clenched his fists, hit the bench. He broke a smoldering hole in it. Adam stared at the hole, realized, at some level, that he had done that, tried to stagger away from the scene, gave up, and sat back down.

Wyngarde was still prowling the boardwalk in his surfer disguise when he noticed people were walking faster in one direction than the other. He moved opposite the crowd until he came to a young man sitting on a shattered bench, staring into space. As nervous people moved quickly past the man, Wyngarde approached him.

He reached out with his psychic talent, and almost jumped back physically in fear. The man on the bench was screaming distress. Wyngarde quickly regained his composure. He smiled, shifted his power so the man would see him as an attractive young woman in a bikini and wrap, and walked right up to him.

The rest was easy. Wyngarde had his mark. He settled back to wait and watch.

It was almost three in the morning when the John, Rita and Martin had finished loading their things into the old van that was more home to them the house they had been squatting in for the past two weeks. John got behind the wheel, with Martin up front, his extra arms folded under an enormous purple and gold USC hooded sweatshirt. Rita climbed into the back, and fell asleep again within a few minutes.

For two hours they drove to the beats of a new mix by DJ Schwa, from John's collection. Martin asked him where he'd gotten the disk, still impressed by John's ability to keep on the leading edge of what was hot. "A friend," was all John said. "You like this music?"

"Yeah, kinda. I hear DJ Schwa's a mutant?"

"It's true, the guy they used to call Silent E."

For a while, they drove and listened to the music. The disc ended and repeated.

Finally, Martin spoke. "Where's Kurt? How come he's not with us?"

"He'll join us when we get there."

"Maybe now you could tell me where 'there' is? Me and Rita got no idea what we're doing here."

"So why did you come?"

"You serious? You know I'm with it, don't ever fucking doubt that, man." John glared. "All due respect. But seriously, I'm willing, I just don't like being kept in the dark." He made a four armed shrug. "Not like I got anywhere else to go...my mom nearly fucking took a shot at me, man."

John sat silently, focused on the road. "We're low on gas. We'll stop soon."

More time and road slipped into the night.

"Did you know that, man? My own mother. Would you believe it? She kicked me out after I changed, and when I came back for some of my stuff, she had the fucking preacher and my daddy's old gun."

"So what did your dad do?"

"Nothing, man. Nothing ever. He ran out on my mom just after my brother Justin was born, two years after me. Don't know nothing about him. Don't even know if he's alive."

"That how you hooked up with the Brotherhood?"

"Sorta. I had nowhere else to go, right, so I just started walking. I don't remember much. I stole. I think a beat a guy up, maybe he died. Don't know. Just kept running. Wasn't going nowhere in particular. Then one day, this guy comes up to me, says, you're not alone, takes me to meet some other guys like you and me. Man, I was happy to see I wasn't the only one, I fucking broke down and cried. Like a little fucking girl, man. Shit, don't tell anybody. Don't tell Rita that, okay?"

"Sure." John put out a hand. "Brotherhood, Martin, my man. Real brotherhood."

They drove for a while more in silence.

"We're gonna take it to the man, and help out some kids that got fucked even worse than you. You don't want to let that happen to anybody else, do you?"

"You gotta ask?"

"Formality. No, I don't have to ask."

**Chapter Five**

"Where are we going in such a hurry?" Alex asked. He was looking for a recycling bin to dump his empty juice bottle while following Scott and the girls in a march up the boardwalk. Suddenly, Saya stopped short, and fought the urge to point her finger at a man in a grey hoodie with the word "ARMY" on the front.

The man was talking to himself, mumbling about women, how they ignored him, belittled him, went out of their way to make him feel small. Saya was staring. The man noticed, and looked at Saya.

"Is he the one?" Mimi whispered. Saya just nodded. She realized the man was looking at something she couldn't see. Robot-like, he rose from the wreckage of the bench he was seated on, turned, stared at the five of them.

Then he exploded.

The girls were aware of the blast as noise and heat and shock. That close, they didn't see the wood of the boardwalk splinter, or hear the screaming from the shops and bar-fronts.

As fast as it began, it was over. The boardwalk was devastated. The girls, Scott and Alex stood on a little island of wood behind an overturned snack cart, which had absorbed the worst of the blast. Kathleen was shaking with anger. Mimi stared quietly, aware that she had been in the right place for the explosion to wash over her and her friends. Saya was crouched, hands over head, trying hard not to break out crying. Alex appeared to be in shock. Scott leaned up over the cart, looking for the source.

The man was no longer wearing a hooded sweatshirt, or much of anything else. His body was larger, pulsing, wreathed in smoke and haloed by the flames of a burning bar awning. Scott waited a split second for his calm to return while he shut his eyes tightly, pulled off his sunglasses and set a large single-lens visor on his face. As he did, he asked the others how they were doing.

Kathleen responded by standing up. This got the angry man's attention. Scott tried to push her down by the shoulder, but she would not move.

"I'm okay," said Mimi, although she couldn't be sure if it was true. Saya did not respond.

"Bro?"

"Alex? You okay?"

"Uh, yeah. I think."

The man began to march toward them. Scott turned a dial on the side of the visor, and crimson energy lanced out from his eyes, striking the man. He doubled over and fell onto the sand beneath the destroyed boardwalk.

"Got him." Kathleen ignored his comment and went around the cart, closing on the man. "Come back, Kath, it might not be safe." Kathleen ignored Scott and climbed down the ruins of the boardwalk to where the man was laying.

The man suddenly sat up, his eyes blazing, his muscles crackling with fire. With blinding speed, he grabbed Kathleen by the leg, lifted her and smashed her through a wooden support beam, which broke. Above, the others fought to keep their balance as the boardwalk's ruins shifted again.

"HI. I'M ADAM." He leaped up the twelve feet back to the boardwalk to confront Scott, who caught him in another blast as he finished his leap.

"THAT THE BEST YOU GOT?"

"Duck" said Saya, still crouched in a ball on the ground. "Duck. NOW!" Mimi, Scott and Alex, taken aback by Saya yelling, got down, just as Adam exploded again. The wave passed harmlessly over them. In the distance, Mimi thought she could hear a siren.

Scott looked at Saya. "Thanks. Good call." He popped back up from behind the cart and hit Adam with another blast. "Hey, Alex, a little help?"

Alex was on his knees, face contorted in pain as he let wave after wave of ambient energy flow into him and gather. "Okay. I'm ready."

"On three." Scott began counting. Mimi moved behind him, and slid down to the beach where she had last seen Kathleen. She found Kathleen picking herself up. She looked more upset than injured.

"I'm gonna kill that asshole," Kathleen snarled.

"Don't think you'll need to." As Mimi spoke, the brothers stood up and unleashed two beams of energy, one red and one so bright as to be almost white. Adam, pinioned between the two, was lifted off his feet, drinking in power until he exploded again. The last explosion carried him over the edge of the ruined boardwalk and onto the beach. When he landed, he was smaller, and smouldering.

The sirens were getting louder.

"We should get out of here," said Scott, but by then Saya was already moving.

**Chapter Six**

Jenna and the Colonel moved down metal hallways, passed doors with stenciled numbers painted on them guarded by faceless men in hazmat suits with darkened plastic face shields. They came to an unmarked door; the Colonel bent low for the retina scanner to work, and the door slid open silently. They entered a small room, empty but for a conference table, six chairs, a recessed mini-kitchen, and a wall of television screens. The Colonel locked the door behind them, scowled at the adjoining bathroom because someone had left the door open. He sat down, leaving Jenna standing. By now, the current in the manacles was beginning to make her shoulders sore.

"Take a seat." The Colonel went to the kitchenette, opened the refrigerator, and took out two cans of diet soft drink. He poured them into glasses, and put a straw in one he set down on the table. Jenna sat in front of that cup, and leaned forward to sip the first soft drink she'd had in weeks.

"Situation reports have been building up for days since the Carlysle incident. You don't need to know the details. All you need to know is these three girls," at which the Colonel took an envelope out of his coat, opened it, and spread photos on the table, "are highly desirable, and you are going to help get them for us, my little Judas."

"If I do, will you let me go?"

"You're a valuable asset."

It took all of Jenna's willpower not to start crying. The Colonel sat silent and oblivious to the girl's suffering. They were interrupted by the door buzzer.

Two men in hazmat suits entered, dragging between them a young man with a long, pronounced face that made him look something like a human horse. He was wearing a blue jumpsuit and his wrists and ankles were shackled. Jenna jumped with recognition when she saw him.

"How's about that?" said one of the hazmat suits. Guess the freaks really do stick together." The Colonel dismissed them both with a wave, and turned back to Jenna.

"We're going to do things a bit differently this time. Your horsey pal here is going to do the initial contact, and lure them in. You're going to do your thing when they're close enough, and my boys'll handle the rest. Do this right and you might get to eat tonight. Do this wrong and we can arrange another session with my friend Ivan."

He watched Jenna shiver at the mention of his lieutenant and interrogator.

"So we're all on the same page, here. By tomorrow, the Carlysle project will belong to us, and all's right with the world. So, let's get you two ready to go."

A phone buzzed, Colonel Wraith answered it without speaking.

"Colonel?" said the voice on the phone. "We're getting reports of mutant activity in Venice Beach. Very public. Wideawake's already got two units responding. Oh, and it involves the Carlysle project."

"I was beginning to wonder why you were bothering me with this." As he spoke, he watched Jenna's reflection in the screens. She was trying to say something positive to the newcomer, thinking she was not being observed.

"We're not sure at the moment, but we think the Summers boy was involved as well. Early witness reports are talking about 'red laser beams.' Might be something."

"Bonus money." The Colonel hung up the phone. He turned to face the other two in the room. Looks like we've got some extras to add to our shopping list.

"How about that? Guess you two are going into action even earlier than we thought. Seems there's been an incident."

John's ringtone broke the silence that had descended on the van in the last hour. He answered it without looking away from the road, mumbled a few words, hung up.

Several more minutes passed.

"Who was that?" asked Rita, who had just woken up after sleeping through the first five hours of the drive. "Was it Kurt?"

"Yeah, it was. He's got everything ready, we're going to meet him near the border, and he'll get us across. I've got a place to stash the van, and he's got a car on the other side. Better start packing up what you'll need, guys."

Martin climbed from the front seat to the back, and began to help Rita sort through cardboard boxes. He pushed aside a blanket to get a box of guns, chose two handguns and two submachine guns, and began searching for the belts, holsters and ammunition for them. Rita belted on an automatic handgun, pocketed half a dozen clips for it, and then stuffed a nickel-plated short barrel revolver in her jacket pocket.

"What hardware you want?"

"Gimme the Glock 19 with the chip in the handle, I like that one. And I'll take an Ingram if we've got enough clips."

"Five enough?"

"Yeah. That'll do."

"Not like you really need the guns, anyway," said Martin. John tried not to hear the tinge of jealousy in his voice.

By the way, think it's about time you clue us in?" Rita nodded agreement.

"Yeah, guess so. It's like this. My guys tipped me off to a place near Vancouver. It's an island, they capture our people, brainwash them, make them serve to capture more, 'til they've got a whole fucking army. So we're going fix that before they've got that army. Real simple."

"Uh, not to rain on your parade," said Rita, "but what if they've already got an army."

"I'm getting to that. They've got some hardware, sure, but that's where you come in. I've got Stu Marchand coming to meet us..."

"Oh, wish I'd of known that."

"Sorry, Rita. Anyway, he'll get you airborne, you do your thing and take out the towers and scramblers."

"They got scramblers?" asked Martin.

"Yeah. Probably. Safe to assume they do. Anyway, while Rita does the electronics topside, Kurt gets Martin inside, where he can do some heavy damage, and the scramblers won't bother him even if they've got redundant systems inside."

"But that means Kurt might not be able to get out."

"Yeah, so you better look after him good, Martin, my brother." John watched in the rearview mirror as Martin beamed with pride at being given that kind of responsibility.

"What about you?"

"I'll be in a boat, approaching quietly. Once the fireworks start, I'll hit them from the coast, and make my way up. Don't worry about that, I'll bring it pretty fucking good."

"So, five of us against an army? Tell you what, John, I'm lovin' this shit right now. I feel huge." Martin pushed the last word, flexing all four arms.

Rita sat quietly and stared out the window. Stu was an alright guy, she thought, and Kurt's kinda cute in an exotic way, but this life was just too much. Maybe after this one.

But she knew she'd made that promise before, and never kept it.

**Chapter Seven**

As Saya spoke, the other four moved, but not all in the same direction. They stopped, regrouped, tried again. They got only a few steps off the ruins of the boardwalk and on to the street when Saya stopped. Mimi and Kathleen took her by the arms and kept her moving; but slower now, hoping that whatever she was seeing would be helpful in finding their way out of a rapidly growing mob of panicked onlookers rushing in every direction.

Saya watched the men in white hazmat suits, faceless, relentless, moving down streets, through alleys, scared people watching them, frozen expressions of fear as the men waved metal wands grabbed people who were screaming running and then someone tried to fight back and the noise and the nausea and the world turning upside down and...

Saya was pulled back to the present world by Kathleen, who was stumbling forward, moving the crowd aside with one hand while holding Saya with the other. Mimi had fallen two steps behind, but then she cut past a group of people and came out two steps ahead of Kathleen. The brothers were a few steps behind, trying to stay together in the crowd.

Saya pointed. Kathleen pointed her in that direction, she shook her head, so they went the other way, narrowly avoiding a group of five men in white hazmat suits with devices that looked like weapons. Mimi had gotten ahead, she actually saw the men, but they did not notice her amidst the crowd.

"Did you see those guys?" Mimi asked the whole group. "They looked just like the guys from Carlysle."

"How can you tell?" That was Alex, who had only caught a glimpse. "Couldn't even see their faces."

"I know. Creepy. Right. But the uniforms and equipment looked the same, or at least like those guys at the Annex."

Kathleen nodded her agreement, and Scott was about to say something when Saya interrupted. "It was those guys. They're looking for us. I think they know we're here."

Scott picked a direction, waited for Saya to nod approval, and started moving at a marching pace.

"Bravo team leader to Base," the radio crackled. "Confirm objective Alpha Foxtrot One, but we've got a problem." From the command vehicle, Stanley watched the video pickups on the helmets of his men. The five men of Bravo team had been the first on the scene of the devastation.

Stanley took the mic. "Bravo team leader, this is Mobile Command. Gimme a sitrep."

"You getting video? Well, it's as bad as it looks. First response still hasn't given us any idea of casualties, but they look pretty light. Got no confirmed dead so far. Repeat that, no confirmed fatalities at this point."

"What about the primary objective? What's our problem?"

"Well, we've got one survivor, ground zero, skin's too hot to be anything but our guy, but we're getting minimal alpha-theta brainwave readings. Hardly above baseline. I'm not sure this is our guy at all. If it wasn't for the temperature, I'd say we got the wrong guy. And, worse, no sign of objective Charlie India anywhere."

"Got any ID on ground zero boy?"

"Not on sight. Guy's buck naked. That alone points to it being our guy, but the pressure of the explosion could've torn clothes off him. Jacobs already sent images to Central, they should have their face recognition stuff going at it right now."

As if on cue, the phone at Mobile Command rang. Stanley answered with his name and rank. The voice at the other end told him they had identified the man Bravo team was holding as Adam Olowski, a resident of Venice Beach with a short juvenile criminal record. Stanley went back to the mic.

"Bravo team leader, this is Mobile Command. Package objective Alpha Foxtrot."

"Roger that."

Adam Olowski was hardly aware as he was being lifted by faceless men and placed in a box. All he knew was that the voice was quiet, for the first time in over a year.

Jason Wyngarde kept his distance. He was good at keeping his power toned down, but the men in the white suits were good at what they did, too, and he knew it. He scowled with his real face presented to anyone who cared to look; middle-aged, a bit overweight, with greasy skin and oily black hair.

He walked away as the white suits were loading a young man into a coffin-like box while another group of five white suits looked on and kept the crowd back. One of those white suits adjusted a dial on the side of his hood, and his voice was amplified across the boardwalk.

"Attention please. There is the possibility of a biological contaminant active in this area. We're going to need to ask everyone to remain calm and not to leave." At this point one of his colleagues, who had been communicating with the local police department, indicated with his thumb up, "Police have contained the area. Please do not attempt to leave. We assure you that you are in no immediate danger."

"So why can't we go?" shouted a young man. Several other voices joined his.

"We need to be certain you don't have any contaminants on your person or clothing. This will take a little time. We thank you for your cooperation."

"What if we don't cooperate?" came from the beach area, this time it was a bodybuilder.

"Anyone failing to cooperate will be detained by the police. I'm sorry, but that's how it has to be. We'll do this as quickly as possible, and get you on your way. Once again, I assure you that you are in no immediate danger."

The crowd broke into smaller groups, people finding those they were with or just a place to sit down. The white suited men began counting and organizing, waiting for a decontamination unit to arrive and set up.

Jason Wyngarde moved towards the barriers the police were putting up, shifting his power so that the police saw him in a police uniform with sergeant's stripes. Several officers tried to speak to him. He told them he had to confer up the chain of command, and an officer even held the barricade up for him as he made his exit.

Back at Mobile Command, Stanley finished getting his last report from the field teams. He picked up the phone, watching a screen and waiting until the computer informed him the line was secure. He started to dial when he realized his second, Andrew Ng, was speaking.

Ng was watching the screens. "Funny, isn't it? Every time we go out in public, we gotta cover up like this. You'd think by now they'd be more scared of terrorists with germs than the poor mutants.

"Yeah, but everybody believes in germs, not everybody believes in mutants."

"So people fear what they're comfortable with? That's kinda fucked up."

"No argument here. I got to call the boss and tell him the bad news."

"Well, at least we got the consolation prize."

"Runner up is first loser. My dad used to say that." Stanley dialed the number.

The conversation was brief. He put the phone down heavily.

"What's the matter? He didn't take it so good?"

"No, but it isn't good. New orders. We've been pulled. Some other outfit gets the collar on the Carlysle girls, somebody I've never even heard of."

"Thought you knew everybody."

"Thought so to. But this 'Colonel Wraith' had all the right authority, all the right codes. I'll make a few calls and hit HQ to confirm, but I've got a feeling this guy's legit."

"What the fuck kind of a name is Wraith?"

"The kind that says either 'I'm a huge fucking dork' or 'I'm so seriously bad ass I can call myself any lame shit I want and nobody can do fuck about it. I'm guessing it's number two."

"So we're out and Wraith is up?"

"At least until we can bring this up in committee. Something's fucked up here. Just a hunch, but it doesn't feel right."

"Black ops, probably. Listen, man, don't worry so much about it. The important thing is the job gets done, right? They get these muties off the street before somebody gets killed. Focus on the job, man."

"You're right, Drew. The job."

**Chapter Eight**

The girls and the Summers brothers didn't slow their pace until they reached the parking lot, where they found another problem. The police had set up roadblocks, so getting out in their rental car was not possible. They started walking again when Scott pulled up short. The others stopped and grouped around him.

"Just got a message from the Professor. He says to meet him on the corner by a place called Venturo's.

"I know the place," said Alex. "They make pretty good subs." With Alex leading, the five of them were able to reach Venturo's sub shop, where they found a minivan with a taxi sign on top waiting for them. The driver was a young man with Asian features and wavy, long black hair. He wore a green t-shirt and cargo shorts. As they approached the corner, the driver waved a dark blue gym bag at them emblazoned with a yellow X within a circle. Scott got the message and started in that direction, with the others following.

"Professor sent me," said the van driver. "Name's Zhao. Nice to meet you all. Now get your asses in the van while our escape route's still clear." Zhao pulled a pair of sunglasses down from his head and fixed them over his eyes as the brothers and the girls scrambled into the van. As he did, Mimi noticed Zhao had silver eyes. Zhao began accelerating before Scott, who was last, was fully aboard.

They drove thirty seconds before hitting a roadblock. Zhao stopped, waited with the window rolled down, until the policeman approaching waved him through and went on to the car behind him.

Zhao turned to his passengers once they were on their way again. "You can thank the Professor for that one. And believe me, he doesn't like to do that to people's heads."

For several minutes they drove with no sound but the stereo, which was blasting Led Zepplin music. Zhao bobbed his head with the music as he drove, only breaking rhythm to curse out other drivers who had done something to offend him.

"I think we're in the clear now," was all he said, and went back to driving. Zhao said nothing more until he dropped the kids off at their hotel.

Jenna spent the ride swapping glances with Sydney. He had been issued street clothing, a grey t-shirt, black hooded sweatshirt, blue jeans, sneakers. They did little to conceal the horse-like muzzle that grew from the front of his skull, or the thick pads on the backs of knuckles, or his gangly, slightly misshapen legs. She looked down at her blue jumpsuit, with the numbers on breast and shoulder, and tried to feel jealous, but it wasn't in her. They were in a van, together with three bulky men in dark suits and sunglasses. One of the men had kept reminding her what she had to do, but she had tuned him out an hour ago. Lost in her silent communication with Sydney, she was taken by surprise when the van stopped and Sydney was suddenly ushered out.

"You remember what to do?" said one of the bulky men to Sydney, for what must have been the twentieth time.

"Yeah, lure them here, 'til Jenna zaps'em. I'm not stupid."

The man didn't bother responding. He was already checking the load on a dart-throwing weapon and then putting his shoulder to the stock to test the aim.

Just like that, Sydney Levack was on his own. He took a few cautious steps, then turned and left the alley, emerging on to a crowded street in a city he didn't recognize. He felt free, he knew they were watching him. He fought the urge to run as fast and far as he could, which, he remembered, was very far and damn fast. But he knew if he left they would find him. And in the mean time they would hurt Jenna. Sydney never thought of himself as a hero, but he knew if he did what he wanted, somebody else would suffer for it.

He set to work.

They told him the kids were staying in the downtown Marriot Courtyard, he could identify that by the big red logo on the building's side. For several minutes he lingered outside, until it dawned on him that he was practically the only one on the sidewalk, and people passing in cars were staring at him.

He pulled up the sweatshirt's hood, tightened the pull cords around his face as best he could, and went into the hotel.

He jacked up his courage and went inside.

John parked the van at a rest stop about an hour before dawn. The Martin reached back to wake up Rita, who had dozed off again, but she was already awake.

"We there yet?"

"Yeah, we are." Rita started sorted out supplies, then handed a backpack forward to Martin, who slung it over his upper shoulder and got out. John and Rita joined him a moment later. The three walked around the brick rest stop building, following John, who took a seat at a picnic table. There was already a man sitting there, bundled up in an overcoat, hooded sweatshirt, baseball cap and sunglasses. He was reading a magazine that was spread out on the table.

"Guten tag," the man on the bench said. John responded by waving. "Ve are all here?" John nodded.

"Who first?"

John looked at Rita, who looked at Martin, who stepped forward and spoke, "I'll go first."

The stranger got up and approached Martin. He glided more than walked on legs that seemed to bend the wrong way, and Martin had to force himself to remain calm. The man walked up to him and put a hand composed of three fat, long fingers that formed a triangle on his shoulder. Martin forced a smile.

"A bit of how people feel around you? It's okay, I'm used to it. I'm Kurt."

Embarrassed, Martin found his composure quickly. "Martin. Nice to meet you. Uh, how are we going across the border from here?"

"Like this." Martin and Kurt disappeared in a puff of purple-black smoke. Air rushed in to fill the space they had vacated, creating a soft implosion.

Rita turned to John. "I get it now."

A moment later Kurt reappeared. "Who's next?"

**Chapter Nine**

Wyngarde was just about to smile inwardly when he changed his mind. The people from Wideawake were good at what they did, but Wyngarde wasn't worried about that. He knew how they operated, and took care to stay out of their sight, just in case their equipment saw what Wyngarde would not permit their eyes and brains to see. What bothered him was something else, entirely.

He was certain the girl identified as Saya Endo had seen him. He wasn't sure how that was possible. From everything he'd read, it wasn't what she did.

Wyngarde moved carefully to his car, got in, did a quick breathing exercise to regain his composure. He dialed his people on a cell phone, confirmed his identity code, told them to get Jerry on the line.

"What do we have on Saya Endo? Do we know what Carlysle found out?" He didn't even wait for Jerry to speak.

"No, sir. I'm afraid not. But I can tell you that Carlysle has pulled some serious strings, and they've got friends in all the right places. They've called off Wideawake and put some specialists on the job."

"Who?"

"Hard to say, sir."

"What the fuck?"

"Hard to say, sir."

"Find out. Yesterday. Call me as soon as you do."

"Will do, sir. By the way, you should find a package waiting for you at the hotel. Use the phone in it the next time you call us, we can no longer insure the security of this connection and scrambler."

Wyngarde punched the off button on the phone and threw it on the passenger seat. He needed to know who the newcomers were. He dialed again, went through the same security procedure.

"Jerry, we know where Xavier is staying?"

"We had a hell of a time finding out, but, yeah, the Marriot Courtyard downtown. Don't know which room or under what name."

By the time Jerry had finished his sentence, Wyngarde had already turned the phone off and started driving.

He parked in the paid lot outside the Marriot Courtyard, took out his little instrument, and tuned the psionic focus. Ten minutes later, he had what he wanted. He smiled. Xavier was clearly tired, or getting old.

"Shouldn't be so careless, old man," he said to no one in particular.

Sydney felt like everyone in the lobby was watching him. Ever since he'd woken up one day in his twelfth year with a face like an ugly horse's, he'd been self-conscious of people staring at him. But he'd never noticed it more than now, as people stared pointedly at TV sets showing all news channels rather than look at him, and the desk clerks concentrated ever harder on the customers they were attending to rather than have to look at him.

He felt like screaming something obscene. He thought of Jenna, kept quiet, took a seat on a cushioned chair, and inclined his head downward. He tried to feel like he was in a spy movie. And he had a secret plan.

He went up to the registration desk, and asked about the girls by name. A blonde girl told him she couldn't tell him. He asked her if he could borrow a pencil, she gave him one with the hotel's name on it.

He went back to his chair, tried to read a magazine while he waited.. They never show this part in spy movies, Sydney thought.

Within ten minutes he was bored as hell. He tried to concentrate on the TV, where a twenty-four hour news station was showing people in middle-eastern clothing and American soldiers in desert fatigues, helmets and sun goggles all square dancing arm-in-arm in what looked like a war zone. The text crawl repeated the fact that this behavior was unusual, could not be explained, made no sense.

Now Sydney was really bored.

He saw the girls across the lobby. They were alone. He swallowed hard, remembered what he was supposed to say, forced his body to move. If he did his job, they would be in as bad a place as he and Jenna were. But if he didn't, they'd hurt him. They'd hurt Jenna worse, because he could handle pain better than she could, and they knew that.

He forced his thick, clumsy hands to grip the pencil. With his short note hidden in the fold of his magazine, he got up and walked over to the girls. They noticed him following them outside.

"Uh, excuse me."

Kathleen picked up her pace a bit, Saya seemed to stop dead, and Mimi turned around to answer.

"I'm sorry to bother you," Sydney continued, but I'm, uh, I saw you guys at the boardwalk, with those other guys, and I was wondering, well..." Sydney pulled down his hood, letting them see his long, equine face and mane of hair. At the same time, he showed them the magazine, where had written the "Yourin" and circled the printed word "danger" in the text.

Saya was watching a long dark van and cruel men who used chains and sticks that shocked a blonde girl who didn't want to hurt them but would do so and the cruel men were everywhere and had allied themselves with things that looked like...

Then her vision faded like a lost picture signal, as the actual van she had just seen pulled up the street. She shouted, pointing, incoherent.

Inside the van, the men realized they'd been seen. Jenna sat still among them, knowing that her power was supposed to have disguised the men for longer. In her mind, she drifted, trying without luck to find a happy memory. She was jostled back to the present as men in blue hazmat suits pushed past her and out of the vehicle. They hit the ground running.

The girls took only a moment to realize they were about to be attacked. People in the hotel lobby could hardly see, and people in cars sped up as they passed, obviously wanting to be as far away as possible. Two more blue hazmat suits got out, and began directing traffic away from the hotel's driveway.

Kathleen took the front, waiting for the men to shoot something, but they did not. Instead, two of them tackled her. She went willingly, waiting to hit the ground and get stronger, but nothing happened. She was just a girl again. She began to panic, fists and feet finding targets but not doing enough damage to get the men off her.

Saya held her ground, and one of the men grabbed her. She turned to Mimi. "Stop her."

"Her who?" Mimi yelled, dodging a grab by one man and looking for cover.

"Blonde girl, in the truck." The man who was holding Saya hit her across the face, and her mouth filled with blood.

Mimi kept moving, looking for a way to the truck, when Syndey blocked her way. He apologized, and tackled her.

Two blocks from the hotel, Scott and Alex were returning from a walk when a car pulled up. It was a sports car, but they saw it as a black sedan. The driver was not Charles Xavier, but they weren't able to see that.

"There's been some trouble," said a man who was not Xavier, reaching out with a touch of psionic energy that felt right to Scott. "Get in."

The brothers did.

"Now," said Jason Wyngarde in Charles Xavier's voice, "Let us go find the girls. We need to be on our way."

**Chapter Ten**

The Brotherhood cell had been waiting only five minutes when John looked up and pointed. They were sitting in a campground, near the Pacific Ocean, gathered around a wooden picnic table, when a man soared out of the sky on clumsy feathered wings that attached to his arms from shoulder to wrist. He was wearing a plain white a-shirt, cargo pants and jungle boots. Oversized aviator sunglasses obscured half his face.

"For those of you who don't know him," Martin and Kurt exchanged a look, "this is Stuart. He's gonna be our air cover." He John turned to face Stuart. "You've got the boat ready?"

"Rented canoe, best I could do. Hey, I rhymed."

"Stuff the poetry, we got shit to do."

"Jeez, John, lighten up."

"Sorry, Stu. Just get tense before an op, is all. I'm okay. Everybody else okay?" The rest of them nodded.

John gave Rita a final nod, making sure she was still focused. "Alright, then, let's do this thing. Everybody got eleven minutes past one?"

They reset their watches, and John headed off towards the shore, while Martin and Kurt moved off in a different direction, so they could see the glow of the lights on their target island some three miles offshore.

That left Rita and Stuart in awkward silence, which Stuart broke, "Didn't expect to see you here."

"Thought about giving it up."

"Leaving the Brotherhood?"

"When you put it that way, yeah. Do I look like a 'brother' to you?"

"Not when you put it that way. But you do look damn good." He smiled, and set his aviator glasses on his head. Then it was her turn to smile, looking into his oversized, owlish eyes and the silly grin he had set on his face.

They hugged unsteadily, half friends and half lovers.

Stuart nodded, checked his watch. "Ready, 'Brother' Strobe?"

"Ready, Brother Owl."

She embraced him more tightly, and with two great wing beats, they were aloft.

They were just up to speed when Rita's cell phone rang. Reaching around Stuart's body, she got the phone and fumbled with the buttons. It was John.

"Sorry about this, but we placed the order wrong. Let's do this again tomorrow. Okay?"

"Gotcha." She turned the phone off. "Stu, set us down. We're aborting the mission tonight. John saw something he didn't like.

"I noticed the incoming 'copters as well, but I was figured John would want to go ahead. Okay, so we wait until tomorrow, no big deal. Gives us a day to knock around, maybe get some Thai food. There are some great places all over British Columbia."

"That sounds alright, 'Brother' Owl. You got yourself a date."

Mimi, Kathleen and Saya came to at about the same instant, although they had no way to know that. Each of them found herself in a small, nearly featureless room, with a single door with a viewport in it.

Saya let the walls fade into the crash of gunfire and shouting and quirk, jerky motions that had to many limbs and smelled awful and; and she willed her vision back to the present. It was getting easier.

Kathleen swore loudly when she realized she was in a prison. She hit the wall, but it was soft and forgiving and didn't do nearly enough damage to make her feel any stronger.

Mimi spent the first few minutes working hard not to panic. She'd gotten out of Carlysle knowing less about what she had within her, this situation was manageable, she told herself.

The girls had only waited a few minutes when an intercom sounded in each room. A man's voice announced that they were now members of Unit 701, and that training would begin in six hours.

Saya guessed they were watching her, and suppressed a smile. She could put up with this for a little while.

Kathleen got madder than ever, but she was unable to find a way to trigger her absorption and get strong enough to attack the door.

Mimi was sitting quietly when the door to her room opened, it was all she could do to keep from screaming. A woman stood in it. She wore a charcoal grey business suit with a tailored jacket and tapered slacks. She greeted Mimi with a smile that was pure predator.

"Mimi, I'm Roberta. It's soon nice to meet you. I've heard so much about you and your friends."

Mimi said nothing.

"I need you to come with me, now."

"Where are we going?"

"Nothing to worry about, just a bit of orientation. The others will be called in the morning, but your name came up first."

"What if I don't go?"

"That would be unfortunate." Roberta motioned with her head, indicated two men blue hazmat suits who stood sentry in the hallway. "I might have to ask them to help me convince you, but that's not really going to be necessary, is it?"

Mimi said nothing but stepped into the hallway, following Roberta. The two men fell in behind. At the end of a long hallway of doors, Roberta swiped a magnetic strip card in a reader, and a door opened leading to a cold, windy exterior. An elevated helicopter landing pad dominated the scene, with four utilitarian buildings arranged in a square around it. Roberta led Mimi directly across the square and into another building, again using her swipe card.

As they entered, Mimi saw a large open space on the left, and sitting on a couch, watching television, were the horse-faced boy who had tackled her and a small, frizzy haired blonde girl. Two hazmat suits stood like decorative armor in an old castle, although there were actually occupied by men who watched over the room, making sure the boy and girl on the couch sat a certain distance apart.

Roberta ended her march at an office, went inside, invited Mimi in and offered her a visitor's chair. The office reminded Mimi of Dr. Gordon's back at Carlysle.

"Nice bracelet," said Roberta, indicated a thin leather band on Mimi's wrist that still had its buckle and the words "Carlysle Institute" on it. "I see you were rather attached to that place." Roberta smiled at her own pun. Mimi did not. She sat silently.

"Don't you want to know why you're here?"

"Not really."

"Doesn't matter. The reality is, you're valuable. You may as well get used to it. Carlysle wanted to study you, we want you to work for us. No, let me rephrase that. We insist you work for us, so there's no chance of you working for the opposition."

"Fuck you."

"Now that's hardly a sociable response."

"Like I care."

"You will. In the meantime, I think we've done all we can here. I'll ask Mr. Jorgenson to show you back to your room." As she spoke, a man in a blue hazmat suit entered. "And by the way, we're on an island, so you're really not going anywhere."

Mimi returned her predatory smile, and Roberta turned away. It wasn't Roberta's policy to let her new recruits ever see her in fear. But there was something about this girl.

**Chapter Eleven**

Charles Xavier was dreaming, and he was aware of it. He was walking on a crowded street in a hot, dry city. The memory was horrible, but he still enjoyed this part. The long walk, the feel of his legs working as they used to, the smell of thick black coffee, the lilting mix of Arabic and French over the guttural flow of English. He saw the café ahead, turned to go inside, eager to put down the weight of deja vu and carry the memory to its conclusion, when he was stopped by a thin, pale man who did not belong in his memory. He pushed past the man, entered the café, awoke, concerned.

He sent out with his mind, looking for Scott, but the response came back hazy. He focused, pushed deeper, realized Scott was with his brother, but not the girls, and that something was wrong with Scott. Xavier listened. Scott was talking to...Xavier? Xavier knew the workings of illusion inside and out, Scott's mind was being manipulated, but also guarded.

Xavier lay back on the bed, took a moment to gather strength and wits, and stepped out of his body. No wonder he had been dreaming of that day in Cairo. Once again, he found himself on the verge of a psychic battle.

Jason Wyngarde, for his part, realized Xavier was on to him, but for the moment, he was winning, and all he needed do right now was play defense. Wyngarde sped up, changed lanes, and headed for the interstate ramp. The first thing he wanted was distance.

To himself, he kept muttering, "Here we go, old man. You and me."

"Scott and Alex wondered what the heck the man they thought was Xavier meant by that.

Mimi was getting angrier throughout the day. She started pacing, stopped, started again. She knew that Kathleen and Saya had been through the same interview with Roberta, had given her the same basic answer, plus or minus a few obscenities. She was sure of, or at least she hoped she was. That hope was better than kicking the wall.

Night had fallen, she could see through the small window. She focused again, trying to understand how to make something happen intentionally. She'd done it at Carlysle, but it wasn't happening now, and that was just making her angrier.

Kathleen perked up at the soft pop-pop of guns far away from her room.

Saya watched the flying man carrying a woman who made a halo which grew and grew and engulfed the island in warm radiant glow which made everything dark; except this time it was actually happening as she'd seen it. No need to do anything.

Above the island, Stuart Marchand came over in a fast dive. Rita concentrated, let herself fall into the burning sensation that made her head feel ten times too large. In the back of her brain, Pink Floyd's "Comfortably Numb" started to play. The energy came out in a circle, burning through her skin, her hair, and out into the night. Below them, electronics went dead, and the island went dark.

Red emergency lights came on. From somewhere a horn sounded.

Saya moved to the door, peeked through the little window. She wanted to see with her eyes what she knew came next.

"You okay?" Stuart shouted.

Rita was calm, her eyes far away. "I fucked up my hair again, didn't I?"

Stuart followed the white jagged scar that ringed her head just above eye level. "Yeah, guess you did. Hope the others are on plan."

"Better be. I better not have ruined four months' growth for this if they fuck it up."

Outside Saya's door, a 'bamf' of imploding air announced the arrival of Kurt, with Martin clutched tightly to him. Martin stumbled, fought down a wave of nausea, and looked around. They were in a short hallway with doors coming off both sides. Each door had a card reader next to it.

Saya knocked and shouted, "Over here. Help."

Kurt was bent over, and Martin noticed for the first time that the blue-skinned man with the odd three fingered hands had a tail that was twitching from side to side.

"You okay?" asked Martin as he moved to the door he heard a voice coming from. Kurt nodded.

Martin reached the door, grabbed it with all four hands and pulled. The door gave up slowly, but Martin pulled it completely out of its frame.

Saya was watching the blue suited men running towards them. As the door moved, she stomped her foot to jar herself back to the present.

"About sixty seconds," she said.

"Huh?"

"We've got about sixty seconds before they get here."

Up the hall, Kurt teleported four more times, returning to the main corridor with Sydney, Jenna, Mimi and Kathleen on each arrival. He stopped to catch his breath.

Sydney moved to run in one direction, grabbing Jenna by the hand.

Martin moved to stop them.

"No," said Jenna. "If I go with you, you can't do that thing anymore. I stop people's powers. I can't go with you."

"Vere then?" Kurt's accent came on stronger as he tried to catch his breath.

"I'll go with her," said Sydney. "My mutation's all physical changes, so she can't effect me."

"I don't like it," Martin chimed in, filling all four hands with guns.

"Okay by me," said Kathleen, who was looking for something to use as a weapon. "Hey, where's Mimi?"

Any response was drowned out by the sharp biting crackle of automatic gunfire and Martin screaming "get outta here" over the noise of his own weapons. Kurt took the lead, moving in a low crouching run to the door at the end of the hallway, followed by Kathleen and Saya, who had her eyes closed.

Saya tapped Kurt on the shoulder. "Two of them are gonna creep up from that side," she said, pointing with her left hand.

Kurt focused, his eyes narrowed and yellow. Nothing happened. "Dampers are still up." He turned to look back down the hallway. "Martin, vere are you?"

Martin came running up. "Cover fire, man." Got a few of them pinned at the end of the hall. They'll be on us in a moment. Not the dampers. It's Jenna. Try again."

"Get that door," yelled Kathleen.

"Go," said Saya. "We've got a few seconds."

Martin ripped the outer door with an effort that left him grunting and shouting. He stepped out into the courtyard, swore, fell back right away, bleeding.

"I think they're already here."

"No kidding," said Kurt, who then disappeared. Saya and Kathleen could hear more gunfire outside, probably trying to pinpoint Kurt in the darkness. A moment later, Kurt reappeared. "There are a lot of them out there."

Martin came running up. "I noticed. Where the hell's John? I tore the wall down, but that won't stop them for long."

Saya slowly raised her head, realizing for the moment the gunfire was over. "John's coming this way, but..." She stopped speaking. The vision played itself out in slow motion. John was running hands blue energy blazing from both fists consumed in fire and then the bullet he didn't see and blood bright red against the blue glow of the energy he was discharging from his hands, his shattered hands and Saya forced herself back to the present and stared at her own hands.

"We've got to get out there and help him. He's been hit, or, he will be." She stood up and started for the door.

Martin and Kurt both stopped her. "Too many guys out there."

"Fuck it," said Kathleen, and she ripped the door open.

**Chapter Twelve**

Down the hall, the sounds of battle faded away. Mimi moved quietly, trusting her luck as two groups of running men went right past her, hardly even noticing. She picked a door as though by random choice and went in. A man sat at an outer desk, watching video monitors and speaking into a microphone. Mimi moved as quickly as she could, and the man looked up, noticed the door closing, and shouted, "who's there?"

Mimi took the moment to go through a door behind him, and he never knew she was there.

Inside, she found herself in another office. This one was spartan, with desk, two chairs, computer, bookshelf. The only thing that gave away any personal information were a series of framed certificates announcing awards and commendations in the name of Roberta Laswell.

Mimi had come to the right place. She almost stopped to question, but decided instead to let her instincts, which had been good this far, stay in control.

That almost cost her. She was looking around the office when the door opened, and Roberta came in. She was saying something about a "level three situation" into a cellular phone. She put the phone down as soon as she saw Mimi.

"You did this, you bitch." Mimi was caught off guard by Roberta losing her temper so quickly. "So smug, with your fucking little gift." Roberta's body began to glow, becoming almost transparent where her flesh was visible at the neckline of her jacket. "You think you're the only one? These people want to help us, make us useful, but you, you had to go and fuck things up."

Mimi stayed low and ready, while she let instinct or power or whatever it was guide her hand. With her eyes on Roberta, her fingers closed around a letter knife on the desk.

"Yeah, I know all about you. I've seen the Carlysle reports. I should have known it would come to this."

The two women locked eyes, Roberta's ranting madness meeting the growing sense of detachment that was Mimi.

Then the energy that was welling up in Roberta grew out of her, and lashed out as a tentacle of living, purple force. Mimi was caught unaware, so she let the instinct drive, relaxing her body as the tentacle's impact carried her across the office and into a wall. The pain of the impact was far away, as though it was happening to somebody else.

Mimi moved, low under a second strike the crushed wood wall panel and two framed certificates. The tentacle followed as she stepped around a fallen chair, behind Roberta, and plunged the letter knife into Roberta's left kidney.

Mimi watched her hand draw back and stab again. The blood was sticky like spilled soda pop, red contrasting with the beige jacket and grey carpet it fell on.

The tentacle flickered and died with its owner.

Mimi sat in the desk chair, bloody letter knife still clutched in one hand. She realized how easy that had been, although she couldn't decide if Roberta had underestimated her, or if her power had done it.

Either way, she felt just fine.

Then the moment passed, and the smell of blood climbed up her nose, reached her brain, and sent her reeling.

John sat with his back against the boathouse wall, drinking in the pain of two gunshot wounds in slow, deep breaths. His mutant power, his energy "cannons," had punched holes in the squad of men guarding the beach, but they had stood their ground with accurate return fire. He cursed himself for not having a better plan.

He got his submachine gun from its shoulder sling, pushed the barrel above the boathouse wall, fired blindly, just to let them know he was still alive. That sort of indirect fire was one major reason he'd brought the gun, although it had less punch than his cannons. He wasn't about to stick a hand up where they could shoot it off.

Gunfire rattled the boathouse. His enemies were still alive too, or at least enough to keep him pinned down. Soon, he knew, they would come at him from the side, and that would be that. Not a bad way to die, John thought. He found himself worrying how Martin would take it.

Then he remembered that if he died here, Martin might too. He concentrated, bringing the energy back into his arms, up to his shoulders, into his chest. If he went, he would go with a bang, maybe help Martin finish the mission.

Then he heard gunfire again, but it wasn't getting any closer to him.

Then two explosions rocked the boathouse. John blinked, when he opened his eyes again, he saw Stuart and Rita standing next to him.

"No worries," said Stuart. "The others are on their way. You're going to make it."

"How's Martin?"

"Just fine. We did good."

John slumped back against the wall and let the weight of command drop from him.

Alex was getting concerned as the car headed up the ramp. There was something he should know, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He turned to look at his brother, whose expression was a dark red enigma across his face.

Alex let his power flare up, until the pain began. It always started that way, but pain made some things clearer. Something was wrong. Not the freeway, not the car.

No, the car.

The Car.

He turned to Scott, who was now staring straight ahead.

The man they thought was Xavier was on the phone. "I've got two guests we're going to need to look after for a day or two, real potential here. Make sure everything's fucking arranged when I get there." Wyngarde turned off the phone.

"Scott?" said Alex.

"Yeah?"

"When did we get this car?"

"Rented it."

"Who did?"

"Professor Xavier."

"Who's driving?"

"The Professor."

Wyngarde caught the conversation as he put the phone down. He reached out with his mind to reinforce his illusion, when Scott turned to look at him.

"Why didn't you let me drive, Professor?"

"I'm fine, I wanted to."

"Scott, the car..."

"I know, Alex. I know."

"Is something the matter, boys?"

"No. It's just, this car, you driving..."

Alex let the bolt go, shattering the rear of the car and sending it careening across two lanes of interstate. Scott, sitting in back, watched the bolt go by and realized he was with the Professor in a strange car and he wasn't driving which meant the Professor was using the pedals, which was not possible.

Scott looked at the driver, and saw two images. He raised his glasses and opened his eyes just a fraction. The driver fell forward, while the remains of the car bounced off a guard rail. The driver's face was lost in the airbag. Scott reached forward and grabbed hold of Alex. Around him, he could hear the crunch of metal as other cars collided with each other.

As soon as the car stopped, Scott jumped out, dragging Alex with him, and began to run. It was several minutes before he stopped and realized they were in a desert.

"What the hell just happened?" Alex yelled.

"I don't know. I think somebody was messing with us."

"You think? You really fucking think?"

"I'm not the bad guy here, Alex."

"Says you." Alex turned his back in dramatic fashion and walked away a few steps. Then he spoke without turning around. "It's been tough, you know."

"I thought your foster mom was okay."

"She is, she's great, couldn't be better. It's not that, its...bro, I think she knows about me. I have trouble keeping it in some days. And I guess, I don't know, I don't want her to know."

"Why not? You don't trust her?"

"Clueless much?" Alex turned back around. "You see alright through those things? Seriously, it's just something I'm not ready to talk about with anyone, 'cept you. But you think I should come join you at that school of yours."

"Yeah."

"But that's it, bro, that's what you don't get. That tool back there tried to fuck with us because we're mutants, right?"

"We don't know that. Could be any number of reasons."

"Listen to yourself. That's BS, and you know it. I've thought about it a lot, I mean, it would be cool to see you now and again, but I don't want to define myself by this thing I got inside me."

"So you won't reconsider?"

"Are you listening?"

"Yeah, I'm just not sure I'm buying this whole, I don't know, 'finding yourself' California kind of thing."

"It's not California. Not too much, anyway. It's just, I don't know, something I feel right about."

"If that's what you want..."

"It is."

"Okay. Let me call the Professor at least to give us a ride, okay?"

**Chapter Thirteen**

Kathleen steeped through the door into pure chaos. Something smashed into her shoulder and knocked her to the ground. She could hear what she assumed were bullets. The pain of the impact slammed through her body, fed her strength. She stood up, got hit again, searing pain running from abdomen to neck. Then she was in a world of black and red and gray, and when the world stopped moving, her stomach caught up with her. She gagged, fought hard not to vomit.

"That was foolish," said Kurt. "You've got to keep your head down. Unless you're sure you're bulletproof."

"Sure." Before she could say more, Kurt vanished again, and reappeared a moment later with Saya. They were on a rocky beach, crouched next to John, Stuart, and Rita. Stuart's appearance took Kathleen off guard. She found herself staring into his owl eyes.

Stuart smiled.

"Mimi's coming our way," announced Saya, to no one in particular.

"How do you know?" asked John.

Saya shrugged. "I just do, okay?"

"Sure. That everybody, then? How many were they holding?"

"Five," said Martin. Kurt nodded agreement, and then suddenly bent over, picked up something that had just landed near their position, and vanished. He reappeared a moment later, without the object. "Gas grenade. Nasty stuff."

"About now," said Saya. Moments later, Mimi dove over the boathouse wall and landed sprawled on top of Kurt, who had made some effort to catch her.

"How'd you do that?" said Martin.

"Don't know. Just ran and didn't stop." Mimi's gaze was elsewhere, and her left hand twisted the Carlysle restraint she wore as a bracelet. Saya noticed, but said nothing.

"That's the mission, then." John turned to the others. "Boat's shot to shit. Kurt, can you get us out of here?"

"I got Rita," said Stuart. Rita nodded, grabbed his waist, and he ran two steps down the beach and laid out, flying no more than three feet above the water.

"We'll meet at rendezvous point three," said John, but it was clear that Rita hadn't heard him. He turned to Kurt. "Them first."

**Chapter Fourteen**

Zhao heard the telepathic summons and dashed across the hall from his hotel room to the one Charles Xavier was in. He tensed, expecting trouble, and opened the door.

Xavier was sitting on the bed. Lines of sweat marched across his face. He mouthed the word "damn" but made no noise.

"You alright, Professor?"

"I'll be fine in a moment, thank you, Zhao. An old adversary of mine came calling, and I wanted to lure him in."

"But I didn't see anyone."

"He didn't come physically. This was, as it were, a meeting of the minds."

"So?"

"I allowed him to think he had the better of me, and then sent a message to Scott and his brother, who were in the company of my opponent. They got the message. Would you please do me a favor and pick them up?"

"No problem. What about those girls we were supposed to be looking out for?"

"I've been racking my brains about that all day. We lost contact yesterday, although they were still with Scott, so I wasn't immediately worried. As it is, I thought they were with the fellow we were just discussing, but I think he was counting his chickens before they hatch. And I know for a fact that they didn't come in to the hotel last night, at least not before I grabbed some sleep."

"They didn't. I waited up after you'd gone to bed."

"Thank you very much. I'll continue searching for them while you pick up Scott and his brother. If I've got nothing by then, we'll call in reinforcements and broaden our search. We've got an additional problem, however. Carlysle has powerful friends and influential strings to pull. I may have to send the girls abroad for a few weeks until we can settle things."

"You need me to do anything in that regard?"

"Maybe. We'll see how it plays out."

Mystique, in the guise of a elderly female tourist, dialed a cell phone as she left the lobby of the Marriot Courtyard Hotel. She waited while the phone rang, switched carriers, worked around security systems, rang again.

"Ah, there you are, my dear," said the man who answered. "What news?"

"Our tip paid off, the stupid apes took the bait, and the Carlysle girls messed up their whole operation. Only trouble, they did it before we could 'rescue' them. Seems our old friends in the Brotherhood had an operation planned for that same day."

"Coincidence?"

"Not if Carlton's power is what we think."

"Is the girl that powerful? I like the idea."

"What if she learns to control it?"

"I certainly hope she does. But give it time. We'll have our chance to build some loyalty. Any more of our people involved?"

"Two. Jenna Sharpe and Sydney Levack. The boy's purely physical, high speed, heightened senses, and not much else. The girl's a natural power sink. Dangerous, but very useful, and very vulnerable. I'll reel her in tonight."

"No, don't. If what I learned in Montreal is true, they'll likely lead us to more of our wayward sons and daughters, which means we can do more good with less effort."

"I'll keep an eye on her then."

"Very much so."

"Where are we?" Kathleen asked. She could see nothing but trees and sky.

"In a forest" said Martin.

"Not helpful, man" Saya added. "Are we safe here?"

"Sure." This time it was Kurt who spoke. "How's John?"

"I'll live," although John spoke through clenched teeth that cast doubt on what he said. "How about Stu and Rita?"

Nobody responded, so Martin said, "I saw them flying away. Guess they're okay."

"You haven't found out yet?"

"Uh, no. No way to. Besides, you said not to use the phones after a mission."

"Right. Thanks, brother, for reminding me."

Mimi stood up and paced twice around the stand of trees that the group currently occupied. "Thanks, Kurt. You did good."

"Plus, he's cute, in a furry kind of way," added Saya, smiling.

"You're welcome." Kurt would have blushed if he could have. He settled for turning his head away and lowering his gaze.

"Listen," said Saya. "Can you get us to someplace where we can get to a phone? We should call the Professor and tell him we're okay."

"And find out what happened to the boys," said Mimi, although she was still pacing and her gaze was still far away.

"Yeah, that too."

Kurt leaned in close to John, who wiped a trickle of blood from his mouth. "Let me get him someplace safe."

"Good idea," said Martin, pulling on the hoodie that was wrapped around his waist. "The rest of us can hike out of here."

And they began walking.


End file.
